Yes, we've done it. Over 9700, and without the help of those who flitted off to Getaway. Getaway, pfah! Nothing but a time where the lazy bums sit around, drinking, carousing, singing, telling tales, eating, enjoying themselves while we stay home with Mom.

What do you think I was doing this weekend then? All of those good ideas! And I went to a wedding ceilidh, and was most impressed with the new dance ( When dancers get married, the group writes them a dance. It's traditional).

Even the small war with downstairs is good. I don't mind if they decide loud music late at night is a good idea. I can step dance on their ceiling....

Don't worry none, Mom. Getaway's over and I haven't heard that any of the bunch was arrested. Yes, they may still be lying drunk in a gutter, or crawling around some den of dissapation, or hoorahing with harlots, or any of a great number of things. But I don't think that they're in jail. So they should be home soon, assuming that they can stay out of jail.

Well Mom, here's the dufflebag I brought you back. I didn't have time to pick up a ribbon for it. Lonesome EJ and I barely got to the airport on time to get home.

Mom's Duffel

There's three cans of untouched Guinnes and a dozen cans of stout I'ld-a brought along the dark rum, but the damn stuff just ran out! There's a clutch of broken strings to use on over-stuffed trash bags And half a bag of cookies to for to make yer bottom sag. But there's lots of smiles and laughter and a million tunes or two And a pair of wornout Levi's that are wet with autumn dew And in the bottom of the bag, until we meet again Are the thoughts and tender wishes of two hundred folkie friends! They've been dancing on the tables and smoking on the lawn And inventing sweet new harmonies to swell the sounds of song They've been roaring drunk and thoughtful, and all things in between Oh, this Getaway was the richest thing that I have ever seen. There were brilliant English whistlers and tawdry Yankee whalers, There were hearts and tarts and hugs enough to satiate a sailor There were songs from early morning til the rising of the sun And I came back home exhausted, but I had a lot of fun. So Mother dear, now I am here, I'll give ya better shrift, And to prove how much I love ya, I have brought you all these gidts!

I dunno about the getting wet thing, Rap. The current prediction is for Hurricane Wilma to hook to the northeast, go across the southern part of Florida, and terrorize Tweed. That's a pretty good ways from here and even further from where I'll be on Mobile Bay.

Of course, Wilma is a hurricane and absolute predictability is not a quality one associates with the damned things. Especially if one lives in Florida. Especially if one wishes to continue living in Florida, as opposed to dying in Florida. We will not ignore the lady until she is a warm onshore breeze in Iceland (or whatever other fate befalls her).

See? See? Drinking, carousing, womenizing, smoking, gambling, singing, eating -- just a veritable ORGY of wantoness and sinfulness! And Amos is PROUD of it! Yeah, verily, brethren and sistern, his pride goeth before him! (Say "Amen!") He has thrown over the Order of the Golden Globes, sold his pottage for a mess of heritage. Repent, I say unto you, Amos, ree-pent before it is too late! Live wasn't given to you to be enjoyed, but to endure and to cope with! Ree-pent, sinner! (Say "Amen!" again.)

Actually. I have not thrown over the order of the Golden Globes, although I have occasionally had parts of the order thrown over me...but that's another tale. I was operating as an undercover agent doing some forward reconnoitering on behalf of the Temple. I have met some first-rate volunteers, and in fact Sinsull herself, worthy of profound worship in her own right, marched up to me and announced she was reporting for duty. I was hard put to keep up a good front under such inspiration, but I managed to explain I was undercover. She agreed to wait her turn at the altar, bless her generous anatomy.

So don't be pulling that camp-meeting tone with me, Mister Rapaire. You're they guy who stayed AWAY from camp-meeting and tried to blame it on your mother. :>)

Duty, dear sir, called. Duty, Honor, Country, Mother -- these are my guiding lights, and I stand four-square behind them. They are the beacons which guide me and which should guide you, as well as anyone who was "brought up right."

But never mind. My duty called and I answered it. I did not throw over the burden laid upon my back in frivolous pursuit of carnal delights and the temptations of the flesh. And I will continue to do my Duty.

That was tongue in cheek about black and white--I think many subjects are improved by photographing in black and white.

http://www.mmfotografia.info/ is a favorite, an Italian photographer named Maurizio Mauri. Trouble is, his "MMF" initials correspond with some kind of kinky porn acroymn so it's really difficult to track this guy down on the web. He keeps moving his site. I haven't seen that cover shot before--looks like he might have some new material up now.

This was OUR T? How was she? Haven't heard from her in a while -- Mom was asking about her just the other day, in fact. She said, "That Amos, the rapscallion! He could be out there carousing with Teresa or worse. I do wish that that boy would settle down with some nice girl and raise a family, I do. Maybe learn a good trade, like being a shoemaker or a gravedigger. People are always going to need shoes and graves."

I have several really nice potential affaires du coeur, old pal, and a dozen magical heart-tumbles....but none of them seem to be working! :D You can have my whole inventory of overwhelm, a bushel of joy, and a copy of all my mental pictures of the event. Howzzat!?? LOL! And when KT sends it to me I will send you a copy of Jeri's fine performance of "When I Go" a song for the ages if ever there was one.

You know those days when you're just tired, and your brain just doesn't have the energy to come up with anything at all? It's easy to respond to stuff, but striking out in an original direction just doesn't seem to happen. How many days can one of those days last? I'm getting fed up with it!

Why, Bunn, it would be 90 degrees perpendicular to whatever the base line was. Dear MOAB is so tangential (but at right angles) as to resemble nothing so much as a multidimensional map of the Internet.

Bunn, I think you've got it! We need to find a new avenue of BS for Mom! Like we haven't thought of a few thousand already. I know what you mean about ideas drying up. But something will tickle your fancy.

Geez. Do a google search on "tickle your fancy" and it comes up all porn except this one really bizarre looking little dog.

You know, I am an adult, a thinking adult, interested in things to do with pleasure, and sex is one of those things. But the Internet these days just isn't the place to find it. They're so in-your-face about the smut they're pushing.

North south East West Up Down In Out Spinward anti-spinward clockwise widdershins Past Future

Might I suggest as a new direction Poshtel? ie: heading towrds a posh living style. I personally strive to go poshtel at all times - inspired of course by SINSULL and her positively poshtel sense of style.